


dreams of santa fe

by Patrocool (all_the_homo)



Series: Will's Writing Commissions [1]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Autistic Davey Jacobs, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Painting, Santa Fe, Trans David Jacobs, race crutchie and medda are mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 15:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18640870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_the_homo/pseuds/Patrocool
Summary: Davey needs to know for sure that Jack isn't leaving for Santa Fe, and Jack is happy to put his mind at ease.





	dreams of santa fe

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a commission for Baden, thevioletsunflower on tumblr! They asked for soft domestic javid with autistic davey and/or trans jack/davey. Jack is also trans in this but its not actually mentioned so i didnt tag it.

Davey loved watching Jack paint. He could watch him meticulously add details to a new piece for hours on end, and he often did. It was soothing to watch the acrylics spread on the canvas, and often, Jack would ask Davey to mix paints for him due to his ability to always get the exact shade he needed- and it didn’t hurt that Davey enjoyed watching the colors fade into each other into something else.

Jack was painting a landscape, a sunset over a desert, and had asked Davey to mix some more of the orange-y brown he was using for the sand. Davey sat on a stool next to the easel and took the pallet from Jack with a quick kiss. Jack’s phone played soft music from where it sat on the desk behind them.

“Y’know, Race still thinks you’re gonna leave for Santa Fe,” Davey commented lightly as he added a bit of each color he needed. “Are you planning on telling him any time soon?”

Jack leaned against his desk with a crooked grin. “I could,” he said with a shrug. “Or I could let him squirm for a bit longer.”

The brush in his hand paused mid-swirl, and Davey let out a soft breath. “He’s your brother,” he said uncertainly, staring at the partially mixed paint. “He loves you and doesn’t want you to leave.”

Jack considered Davey quietly before taking the brush and paint from his hand, setting them on the table. Davey glanced up, fidgeting with the bottom of the flannel he stole from Jack’s closet that morning. He liked the soft, used feel of the fabric, and liked the way he could smell Jack, the smell of paint and the scent of his cologne sandalwood or something weird like that. He liked that it was baggy enough that he didn’t have t wear his binder underneath it. Jack smiled patiently and held out his hand. Davey slowly took it.

“Well, Race can be assured that my plans regarding my future have changed,” he said softly, pulling Davey to his feet.

Davey squeezed his hand, nodding slowly. “What changed your mind?”

Jack drew Davey close, his other hand around Davey’s waist. He swayed them along to the music, thinking silently. “Well,” he said quietly, after some deliberation, “To really understand, you’d have to see where the Santa Fe dream started.”

He furrowed his brow, swaying with Jack. “I don’t think I’ve actually heard this story.”

Jack nodded, looking at over Davey’s shoulder as he thought back. “I was 7 or 8,” he began. “About a year, give or take, before my mom died. She gave me this book about cowboys in Santa Fe, and she told me that one day she and I would go live there. We’d have a big ranch with cows and horses and some dogs. And when you’re a little kid living in a cardboard box of an apartment in a shitty part of Manhattan, that sounds pretty great. I wanted to be a cowboy so bad.”

Davey ran his thumb over the back side of his hand, trying to soothe him. He bit his lip, waiting for Jack to continue.

“And then she died,” Jack said bluntly. “And I had no one and no where to go, and I was obviously devastated. I was so angry at her for not keeping her promise that I… I threw the book off the Brooklyn Bridge. Then, I was taken to my first foster home and I was a little shit head. I was bounced from house to house over and over and over and I- well. When I was about 12, I decided that as soon as I could, I was going to get emancipated and move to Santa Fe, away from the memories of my mom and into the dream we shared, you know? I felt like Santa Fe was home, and I wanted a real home so bad.”

“Oh, Jack,” Davey murmured, lightly touching his cheek. While he didn’t quite understand the feeling, his heart still ached for his boyfriend.

Jack smiled and kissed Davey’s palm. “I was 15 when I came to Miss Medda’s house. Crutchie can tell you, those first few weeks I was an absolute terror.”

Davey let out a soft chuckle, fondness softening his features. “You’re still an absolute terror,” he said teasingly.

Jack narrowed his eyes playfully but ignored the comment. “But slowly, the two of them grew on me, and while I still wanted to go to Santa Fe, I was no longer pushing for emancipation. Then Race showed up and he was just so scared, and I… Well, I took him under my wing and decided I would stay nearby for at least a year or two of college so I could be around if Race needed me.”

A smile crossed Davey’s face and he let out a quiet huff. “Of course you did.”

Jack laughed and lowered his voice to continue. “And then I met you and that was it, really. While I still love the idea of that dream my mom and I had, what I was looking for was a home, and I already had all I needed for that.”

Neither was sure who leaned in first, but they were kissing, soft and gentle as the music floated through the air. Hands linked together and they swayed together in their shared Manhattan studio as the setting sun shone through their windows. It was a little scary how similar the scenes look, the sunset over a desert on the canvas, and the sunset over a bustling city, framed by glass and metal. 

When they broke apart, they exchanged small smiles as Davey picked up the paint and brush and began to mix once again as Jack very carefully outlined a saguaro in the foreground. The colors of paint smoothly mixed together to create something new and even better, and Davey thought it was a fitting metaphor for the way that Jack’s dream and reality mixed together to create a bright future.

And then Jack smeared green paint on Davey’s cheek, and all that mattered was getting back at him, metaphor long forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos make me smile, comments make my day!
> 
> Please commission me if you like my writing! I'm in a hard spot financially and I appreciate every bit! 
> 
> My tumblr is Patrocool if you wanna come talk to me there!


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